


Trust

by nefarious_irusu



Series: One-Word Prompts [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Acceptance, Body Dysphoria, Comfort, Coming of Age, Dysphoria, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Genital Torture, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Character of Color, M/M, One Shot, One Word Prompts, Short One Shot, Trans Character, Trans Female Character, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, Trust, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-22
Packaged: 2019-06-14 17:46:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15394089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nefarious_irusu/pseuds/nefarious_irusu
Summary: She had lost control- as she had a hundred times before- but thankfully, this time she only had her hands and not a knife.





	Trust

She had only trusted one person, one that she had no reason to. He had never given her any reason to doubt him, but he had also never given her a reason to trust him, either. And Yura wasn't one for trusting people in the first place.

She could have made an excuse when he walked in and found her wearing panties in the locker room. She could have feigned innocence and jerked her hand away from where it twisted her cock painfully, trying desperately to rip it from where it was attached to her body. But instead, tears sprung in her eyes and tracked their way down her cheeks, and she fell apart.

“No, no,” Viktor said calmly. He approached her slowly, his hand cupping hers and prying it from her genitals. “You're going to hurt yourself, Yura.”

“I hate it,” she sobbed. “I hate it.” 

She had been looking in the mirror when the dysphoria started to take control. Her eyes saw those pretty blue lace panties, her favorite pair, with a bulge where they should be smooth. She had lost control- as she had a hundred times before- but thankfully, this time she only had her hands and not a knife.

“You hate what?” Viktor whispered, taking hold of both her hands and squeezing gently. “Your underwear, or what's under them?”

“What's under them,” Yura croaked, her voice sounding foreign.

“Okay,” Viktor replied calmly. “Why don't we see about minimizing the bulge the best we can, then? You shouldn't be trying to mutilate yourself like that.”

Yura shook her head, hands clutching at Viktor's desperately. “It isn't enough,” she whispered. “I want it gone, I just want it gone so badly.”

One of Viktor's hands released hers in order to wipe the trails of tears from her face, his blue eyes looking as pained as she felt. “And one day you can let a doctor remove it properly, if you want to. But harming yourself before you get that far will cause you more problems, I promise you.”

After a few beats of silence, Viktor moved, cautiously seating himself on a bench and pulling Yura with him. Yura let herself be pulled into his lap, nuzzling into his embrace like a vice. He smelled like sweat and mint, a hike up Mount Everest. He was warm and soft, but strong, all at the same time.

“Would you rather me refer to you with female pronouns?” Viktor finally broke the silence.

Yura’s throat grew tighter, and she shrugged dismally. “I can't tell anyone else,” she argued.

Viktor sighed, running his fingers through Yura’s blonde locks. “In private, then. I'll be sure to call you whatever makes you feel most comfortable. Okay?”

Kindness was something that Yura never saw much of. It twisted up in her chest until she felt like her heart might burst from the pressure of it, leaving her a trembling mess. “I feel like a girl,” she whispered. “It's my body that doesn't agree.”

Viktor hummed softly, rocking Yura back and forth just enough for her to feel the motion. “You are a girl, Yura. A beautiful, talented, wonderful young lady,” Viktor encouraged her.

Yura broke; hearing the words out loud consumed her fully and made her entire body feel weak. “No one has ever… no one knows and…” The words got scrambled on her tongue, and tumbled out in a different order than she had planned with some missing in between. “Please… say it again.”

Viktor reached down with a warm hand, cupping Yura's cheek and lifting her face for their eyes to meet. “Thank you for trusting me with this, Yura,” he murmured. “You're a brave girl, and you don't have to be alone in this anymore.”

She didn't have to be alone- the feeling settled somewhere deep in her chest, like a campfire had been lit beneath her ribs. He respected her for how she wanted to be seen, and he would be there to catch her if she fell into the never-ending pit of dysphoria once more.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the waves of no longer fighting on her own. Trust was something new to her- but she was willing to give it a try. 

When Yuuri moved to Russia and started training at their rink, he found out more from necessity than anything else. Yura had taken to spending nights at Viktor's house, and had a good number of dresses, heels, and makeup stashed in his guest room. With Yuuri living there, he was bound to find out anyway, so it may as well be on Yura's terms.

They sat in a row on Viktor's couch, three empty Chinese takeout containers littering the coffee table. The show that they had on as background noise was playing in russian, but had english subtitles for Yuuri. Yura cleared her throat, inching further away from the couple subconsciously.

“Katsudon?”

“Hmm?”

Yura didn't dare to look up as she blurted out, “ _I'm trans and I want you to use female pronouns but only in private because no one knows yet and they probably never even will and in the guest room closet I have dresses and stuff and if you think it's weird that's fine but-_ ”

She cut herself off with a gasp as two strong arms wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her from where she had cornered herself against the arm of the couch. “Shh, it's okay,” Yuuri soothed. “Breathe, Yuri.”

“Yura,” she corrected softly.

“Yura,” he repeated firmly. He sighed, stroking her hair methodically. “One thing at a time, okay? Of course I'll use female pronouns. But only in private?”

She nodded, cheeks burning. “Only you two know.”

“Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me,” Yuuri murmured before continuing. “Why are you hesitant to come out?”

 _Hesitant_ was an understatement. Yura shrugged, leaning her head against Yuuri's shoulder as Viktor leaned in, managing to wrap his arm around them both. “I'm not ready for people to hate me,” she explained.

She felt Yuuri deflate against her and shake his head. “Anyone who loves you will never hate you, no matter what.”

Yura shrugged again, quick to change the subject. “I have dresses and makeup and stuff in Viktor's spare room.”

“Do you usually wear them when you're here?”

Yura nodded, fiddling with her sweatshirt sleeve. “I used to.” _Before you moved in_ remained unspoken.

Yuuri hummed, running his fingers through Yura's hair. “You can wear what makes you comfortable, Yura. You can wear and say what you please, you can act how you want to. Viktor and I will always respect you and make sure you feel safe here.”

 _Safety_. It was a foreign concept to Yura, but the most she had ever felt of it was with Viktor in his apartment. She knew that he wouldn't judge her, and now she knew that Yuuri wouldn't, either. She sighed, burying her face in Yuuri's shoulder.

“Did I say something wrong?” Yuuri asked, concerned.

Viktor chuckled, thankfully speaking up for Yura. Her throat was too tight with impending tears to speak, and he seemed to know exactly when to step in. “She's happy,” he explained. “And relieved that you know now and she can be herself.”

Yura nodded, affirming Viktor's words.

“I'm glad, too,” Yuuri whispered in return. “I'm glad you can be yourself.”


End file.
